


Confessions

by greenfairy13



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Priest!kink, Roleplay, Smut, please don't read when your religous feelings are easily offended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenfairy13/pseuds/greenfairy13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy goes to church. The appearance of a certain God troubles her. Smut happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leftennant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/gifts), [Morriggann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morriggann/gifts).



> Morriggan wrote me a deliciously naughty gift and the conversation afterwards with Lefty lead to this fic. So I'd like to dedicate this to this two wonderful ladies!

The stillness of the old, Gothic church is soothing. Darcy's breath becomes visible in the cold air and the young girl searching for salvation shivers. She inhales deeply, smells the aromas of her childhood: molten wax, incense and dust.

 

When Darcy was little her mum used to take her to church every Sunday. Then she would sit there listening to the tale of Christ dying for the sake human kind.

 

She snorts. It had been a mistake to come here. God won't reach out his helping hand and help her with her silly little problem.

 

Sighing Darcy turns to leave. That's when she hears the rustling of clothes and the sound of a throat being cleared.

 

“Can I help you with something, child?” a low voice asks and she jumps. She can't see the man speaking, for he is standing in the shadows but his sudden presence almost causes her a heart-attack.

 

Darcy spots a tall, slender figure dressed in the long back cloth of a priest. The man looks unearthly in the darkness. His white face and the stiff collar of his attire are in sharp contrast to the blackness surrounding him. Stepping closer, she can make out cheekbones to die for and sparkling, emerald-coloured eyes.

 

A shiver runs down her spine. His smoldering gaze accelerates her heartbeat and she has to swallow down the lump in her throat before she's able to answer.

 

“I was thinking about going to confession,” Darcy admits in a tiny voice.

 

“And?” the priest challenges, arching an eyebrow.

 

“And I just figured sitting down at the hairdresser is much more comfortable than a dusty church,” she answers tilting her chin in defiance.

 

The lanky man smirks in response and shrugs the insult off. “Since you're already here, you could save yourself the effort. Besides it might take a while until you're in need for a hairdresser,” he adds with a little wink, his eyes roaming over her silky curls.

 

Rolling her eyes Darcy tries preventing herself from blushing but fails. The man is frankly intimidating in his beauty. His every movement is graceful, all his long limbs covered under the black fabric give him the impression of a panther. The white collar around his neck accentuates his face, directs the viewer's gaze towards his flawless skin and his gorgeous eyes – and she can't even make out his features properly in this gloomy place!

 

“Fine. Let's get over with this,” she snaps and slides into the booth designed for confessions.

 

“Very well,” he answers bemusedly and slides into the other booth.

 

Now that a wall is separating them she feels calmer and her breathing relaxes.

 

“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” Darcy mumbles half-heartedly while looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. She's torn between the urge to touch this man, to convince herself he's _real_ , and her respect for him. Even when she doesn't believe in God anymore he's still a priest, a figure of authority, a holy man. He isn't supposed to set her on fire. Especially not when her reason for being here is _another_ man.

 

“What is your sin, child?” he asks sternly.

 

His voice is professional, demanding and the young girl finds she couldn't even lie if she tried.

 

“Lust,” she whispers quickly, the word tumbling awkwardly from her lush lips.

 

“Lust,” he drawls, obviously displeased. “And who is the target of your lust?”

 

“Have you seen TV lately, father?” she asks back instead. “Weird shit is happening nowadays.”

 

“Language, child,” he chides.

 

“Sorry.” The girl ducks her head. “It's just...” Darcy sighs and leans back. “I'm confused father.”

 

“Then let me guide you,” he offers.

 

“When I was a child, I used to believe – for a while.”

 

“And now?” he presses. “Do you believe in your God.”

 

“I believe in _a_ God,” she corrects. “The one that came to Earth not long ago.” Her mouth twitches. “ _Loki_ ,” she adds. “The God with the silver tongue.”

 

“And he's the target of your lust too?” the priest states.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yet you're here. Why?” he wonders.

 

Swallowing Darcy whispers, “Because I know it's wrong to desire this God who brings death and destruction.”

 

To her utter surprise the priest snorts. “And doesn't bring the Christian God death and destruction too? Thousands have died in the name of Christ. Didn't this God let his own son suffer?”

 

The girl's mouth snaps audibly shut and she doesn't know how to respond. Sensing her turmoil the priest carries on. “Tell me about the reason for you being here. Tell me about this lust that makes you seek salvation.”

 

“I lost my faith long ago,” she admits. “But now I want to worship again. This God came to Earth and he's so _real_. I want to kneel before him, touch him, feel him. I'm convinced again there's more than what science can explain and I _want_ it.” 

 

“But there's more, right?” the priest asks, looking right through the bars separating them. His gaze is electrifying. She feels like he sees right down to the bottom of her soul.

 

“Yes,” Darcy almost moans. “This God is a man too. A man I not only want to worship with pretty words. I want to worship him with my mouth. I want kiss every inch of his divine skin. I want to kneel down before him, press my lips against him, pleasure him and make him scream my name as loud as I want to scream his. I want him to listen to my prayers and give him my soul and body in return.”

 

“So you want to surrender? You want to give yourself over to this new God?” She hears his breath hitch as he speaks.

 

“Yes,” she groans. “And I'm ashamed about myself. Every night I think about this God. I picture him thrusting into me. I imagine his long slim fingers on my body. I feel his agile tongue sucking my core.”

 

“Such devotion,” the priest mocks but his voice is strained. “Jesus would be appalled by this kind of worship.” He pauses and shifts. She hears him sliding closer to the wall between them and then there's a clicking sound. A hidden door slides open and the young woman is faced with the priest. “Luckily for you, I'm not Jesus,” the man smirks.

 

The girl's jaw drops. Now that she can see the priest properly she recognises him. “Loki,” she whispers terrified.

 

The Trickster grins mischievously and leans back, spreading his legs. “It's your chance, mortal. I'm inclined to listen to your  _prayers_ .”

 

“But why are you disguised as a priest?” Darcy blurts out.

 

“Call it research,” he explains with a lascivious wink. “I need to understand the Midgardian culture. Luckily for me, you seem to have a thing for Gods who have been tortured by their fathers.” Loki's face hardens at the mention of Odin and his back stiffens. “Now kneel before your chosen God!”

 

Giving a little nod, Darcy slides obediently from her chair and kneels down between his legs. The Trickster puts his hand gently on her head. He caresses the strands of her dark hair reverently. His movements are gentle but suddenly he grabs her hair roughly and twists it around his arm. “Didn't you want to worship me with your mouth?” he hisses into her ear.

 

Darcy swallows as she looks hesitantly up at him through her long lashes. Slowly she slides her hands up his long legs. Loki is still dressed as a priest, still this holy man she mustn't touch. Her fingers play with the hem of his cloth. She bites her lip, unsure what to do. He yanks at her hair again and that's when she makes a decision.

 

This man might look holy, but he's as far from holiness as her. Finally she reaches underneath his robe, touches his bare skin. The sensation is as glorious as she anticipated it to be. His skin is smooth, the hair covering his legs feels silken underneath the palms of her hands.

 

Darcy caresses his calves, knees, slides her fingers along his thighs. It seems the man is undeterred by her ministrations. His breathing is even, only his abdominal muscles seem to flex at one point.

 

It's when she reaches his centre and touches his rock hard length that she knows for certain that he is anything but undeterred. Loki sucks in a ragged breath when her thumb swipes over the tip of his swollen cock and his eyes flutter closed.

 

“You promised me your mouth, mortal,” he growls when her fingers wrap around his knob. “You promised me those pliant, red lips.”

 

Darcy bites her lips and stares him in the face. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks are imperceptibly flushed. He looks almost unaffected – even the slight flush is mostly covered by his long black hair.

 

And that damn collar! Darcy has never felt more filthy in her entire life. A rush of wetness soaks her knickers when she thinks about what she's about to do.

 

She kneels before Loki, a myth became true and a man no good girl should ever touch.

 

Darcy pulls his cloth up, exposes his hard length to her hungry gaze.

 

Locking eyes with Loki she lowers her mouth to him. Her tongue takes a first taste from his salty pre-cum before she licks him from base to tip. His size impressive.

 

Darcy wants to feel this thick, long knob deep inside her. She wants to be filled by him, wants him buried inside her to the hilt. Hollowing out her cheeks she sucks him hard, floods him with her saliva until he swells even further in her mouth.

 

The God before her is guiding her movements. He pulls her up and down his shaft, fucks himself with her mouth. Darcy has never been used like that before – she loves it.

 

Loki's breath isn't controlled anymore. Ragged pants are being torn from his throat, his abdominal muscles are set taught and a thin layer of sweat coats his marvellous skin.

 

Darcy's hand slides between her legs. She needs to relief the throbbing need between her own legs, needs some friction. Her hand slides under her skirt. Pulling away her knickers she rubs her clit and moans from lust. The rumbling sound almost pushes the God before her over the edge.

 

With a growl Loki shoves her away from him. Darcy falls on her back, her hand still buried in her pussy. “Did I allow you your own pleasure?” he snarls angrily.

 

Grabbing her arm, he pulls her upright and pushes her against the wall. “Do you really want your own fingers inside yourself?” he asks, biting her earlobe lightly.

 

“No,” Darcy moans, suppressing a shiver at his closeness

 

“Then what do you want?”

 

“You.”

 

“More precisely!” He smirks as his teeth graze her collarbone. His hands slip underneath her shirt, long fingers cup her breasts. The Trickster's tongue slides along her jaw. He tweaks her nipples and Darcy gasps.

 

“Your cock. Inside me, now,” she pants.

 

“Very well,” he grins and tears her knickers apart with a feral growl.

 

He pushes his cock into her the same time his tongue intrudes her mouth. Neither his kiss nor his thrusts are gentle. Darcy is pinned again the wall, her legs wrapped around his slim hips while he's moving deep inside her. He sucks her tongue and she bites his bottom lip in return, knowing full well she will never tire of the feeling.

 

She comes hard around his cock, roars her lungs out when she screams his name over and over again. In the throes of her orgasm she can't keep the pretence up anymore.

 

“Tom! Yes Tome! Deeper, harder,” she urges him on as his hips piston into her. His warm semen floods her womb, fills her up to both their satisfaction.

 

When she comes down from her high her legs are still wobbly. They stay wrapped around each other for a while, only listening to their breathing returning to normal.

 

Tom recovers first. Kissing her jaw he chuckles softly. “God I love how much you are devoted to my roles.”

 

Blushing lightly she admits, “Well, since my boyfriend is an actor, I thought I could convince him to do a naughty role play.

 

“Oh, you and and your kinks,” Tom laughs while straightening out her clothes. “But really. Loki disguised as a priest is pretty inventive. What comes next?” he asks curiously.

 

“Well...I wouldn't be opposed to a foursome with David Tennant and his wife,” she answers with a little wink and leaves Tom behind sputtering.

 

 

 


End file.
